Tonight I was cleaning my room a bit and I came across a book. Not a novel but rather a scrapbook. I had forgotten that I even had it. A black book filled with pages where people wrote me wonderful birthday wishes - from nearly 5 years ago. Some of them I don't even keep in contact with anymore. It's odd the girl who organized in getting this book ready for me, I no longer keep in contact with. It saddens and amazes me the number of people that come and go in your life. You think that they're so close one minute but you never know who will be in your life permanently. So much is up to chance. There are no guarantees that the people that like you now will like you later down the road.

I suppose the same can be said about love. That's why parents are said to have unconditional love for their children. Because no matter where you are, who you become or what you've done parents are supposed to love you regardless. I wish the same can be said about the girlish romantic love.